The Struggle Between Fear and Determination in the Pursuit of Dreams

Living with Big Dreams Means Feeling the Fear of Rejection and Sending Your Work Out Anyway

“Ever Upward” by Daniel Lane

I wish I could feel completely at peace, without the urgency or pressure surrounding my manuscript’s reception, trusting that everything will turn out better than I imagine because I’ve done the work. But terror bolts through my gut, compelling me to visit the bathroom as I send Draft 8—my book baby, the work I’ve invested my waking life in—to twenty beta readers.

A beta reader is a test reader of an unreleased work, typically literature, who provides feedback to the author from the perspective of an average reader. This feedback can help the writer address issues with plot, pacing, and consistency. (Wikipedia)

It’s an honor to have that many people read a draft, and I’m grateful for the friends, writers, and colleagues who’re helping me level up. But what if my novel fails to entertain them? What if it falls flat? What if this is the book that languishes in my digital desk drawer, collecting crypto dust, while I strive to write another?

What if I’m misappropriating my time? Maybe I should get a job with benefits and a retirement plan. With a dual income, we could move into a larger space where I’d have an office with a door, and birds would chirp in the backyard. Should I wait until I collect Social Security to start mining this dream?

And what if, after I revise and send Draft 9 to 149 agents over six months, not one of them loves my book enough to represent me and instead ghosts me rather than sending a rejection letter? Do I have the fortitude to continue when the rejections pile up? What if the 150th query hits, we sign a contract, but no publisher wants to buy it? Will self-publishing, once again, help or hinder my progress?

While I wait for beta reader feedback, my husband and I will sleep in a yurt near the Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve, at the foot of the Sangre de Cristo mountain range, where I know the sounds of wind in the pines, Spike yelping in his sleep, and our laughter will ease my anxiety.

When I confess these concerns to my husband, he encourages me to keep going. He reminds me of how much time (2,074 hours) and money (thousands) I’ve invested in learning a new skill and reinventing myself as a career novelist. He reminds me that writing is what I love to do with my time. He also reminds me that I’ve already built a substantial retirement portfolio that’s growing with compound interest.

And he’s right. I have come too far to quit now. If I want to be a career novelist, people have to read my manuscript. I must produce a catalog of work, book by book. I read somewhere that the difference between selling a book lies in the pages of the ones that don’t sell. If my fears are confirmed, my effort isn’t wasted. Writing makes me a better writer. My novel is like a young adult starting college, heading into the world to find its life. I must surrender to the circle of this book’s life and move forward.

As I’ve mentioned, I’ve manifested two careers in the arts, and they happened because I kept showing up. I realize that in writing this, I’m convincing myself to stand steadfast in my dream. But I could use your help. Please share a story of when you felt terrified but pushed your hopes to the next level anyway. It’ll be good medicine.